the sweetest lullaby
by thefrostedrose
Summary: Post GG6: "Hell must be white, she thinks"/ In the blinding terror of this new life she has, he's the only real thing left. /CatherinexJoe/


_This couple...god, they make my feels explode. I ship them like FedEx. This is post GG6. I'll leave it up to your imagination what happened beforehand :)  
_

* * *

"What's your name?"

"Catherine. Catherine Goode."

"And where were you born?"

"…Seattle." The doctor smiles.

"I think that's enough for today, Ms. Goode."

"…Okay." The doctor gets up, and begins to shut the door, closing out the only doorway she has to the outside world, to her sanity.

It shuts with a thud.

* * *

Hell must be white, she thinks. From the white carpet, and white ceiling, and the white bedspread. There is nothing to do but sit and wait – but what she is waiting for, she doesn't know. The doctors say that she should think, ponder the things she's done. Like some journey of self discovery.

She only dreams of life outside of her little white box, where she feels like a lab rat. Soon, the lines of reality and fantasy become blurred.

The sky is blue, isn't it? Or is it pink, like cotton candy? She can't remember. And the stars – they look like little pieces of sugar hanging in the darkness. The hills, they roll like waves in a bathtub. The water – it is clear. No, it is red. Like spilled blood.

And the painful thing is, she just doesn't know. There's no way of knowing. And she thinks that if she wasn't crazy when she was put in here, she certainly is now.

* * *

"You have a visitor." They tell her. She isn't used to them saying anything else besides basic questions to make sure she still knows who she is. The door opens, light floods the room, and she stares at the face in front of her.

It takes her a long time to place it.

"Joe?" Her voice is low, and he crosses the small room in two strides to stand in front of the bed she's curled up on.

"How are you?" He asks, and she shrugs.

"Fine. I guess." She doesn't say anything else, because there is nothing to say about life with the doctors here.

"That's good." He nods. She thinks since he is the first familiar face she has seen since these doctors ripped away her conscience and replaced it with a new one, that she could be happier.

"How are you?" She asks in return, trying to remember the lessons they try to teach her – _act interested, be polite, make connections. _

"Fine. Everyone is fine." She looks away from him, to a place where a window should be, but there isn't.

"The sky," She says abruptly. "It's blue, isn't it?" He stares at her. "And the water is clear."

"Yes, it is." He answers. She nods again.

"Okay." The doctors come back in to retrieve him, and as he exits, he turns his head to see her giving him a tiny, sad wave goodbye from her own personal area of suffering.

* * *

"Your son is here." The door opens, and Zach walks slowly up to his mother. She doesn't look like herself, he realizes. He looks around at the ten by ten foot room.

"Nice place you have here." He says sarcastically, and to his surprise, she doesn't roll her eyes.

"Why are you here?" She asks, hugging her knees to her chest on the sheet less bed. He points this out instead of answer her question.

"No sheets."

"They don't give me anything I could off myself with." She shrugs.

"Would you?" He whispers, and she shakes her head.

"No, because they keep telling me I'll leave one day."

"Do you believe them?"

"It's the only thing I have left to believe in." He meets her eyes, and all he sees is a shadow of who she used to be.

* * *

"Good day?" Joe asks as he and the doctors arrive at her door. It's another one of his weekly visits that barely last ten minutes. The doctors all look at each other, their pens falling silent on their clipboards.

"Bad day." One says, opening the door. All he can see is a mass of messy red hair in the corner, as she's curled up facing the wall.

"Ms. Goode," The doctor starts.

"Go away!" She cries, and her hands tighten into fists in the bedspread, as if she wants to throw something that them, but there's nothing to throw. "Leave me alone."

"Catherine, it's Joe." He takes a slow step towards her as the doctor closes the door. She turns around, and her eyes are mean. "Are you okay?"

"You know, Joe," She stands up, taking a step towards him, her arms crossed over her chest. "You always make sure to keep in everyone's good graces. But can't you see no one cares about you? You're so forgettable, that everyone will just go off and find each other and you'll be left in the dust. No one loves you, despite what you think. Rachel? Cammie? Matthew? You're a fool for thinking they're your friends."

She's lashing out at him, and it makes him sad more than anything. She's slipping back into her old self, and he pities her.

"This isn't you, Catherine." He says sadly, stepping closer to her.

"Don't you understand?" She screams, but her voice lowers harshly. "I'm a monster." He finally closes the gap between them, taking her in his arms, and suddenly she feels so fragile, so small.

"Not anymore." He whispers into her hair. "Not anymore." She practically collapses into hysterically tears in his arms, and he lets them slide easily to the ground.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy." She chants more to herself than to him into his shirt as the tears stream down her face. "I'm not crazy, am I?"

"No." He breathes, tugging her closer. "You're not."

* * *

Outside, the doctors scribble away on their clipboards.

They note this as progress.

* * *

"It's a good day." One of the doctors smiles at him. "She's in the garden, waiting for you." This is the first time he's ever seen her outside of her little room, and he hurries outside, to the big grassy courtyard. Doctors are swarming everywhere with clipboards, but besides that, with the sun shining and the cloudless sky, it's beautiful.

He sees her by one of the rose bushes.

"Joe, come look! They're so pretty!" She beckons towards him, and there is pure excitement on her face. He stands by her side, looking over them. "Look, there's some red ones, and pink! And there's some white ones in the back."

Her enthusiasm is almost childlike – the pure unadulterated joy. It makes him happy to see her this happy.

"And then there are some peonies over there." She says, taking his hand and dragging him towards another flower bed. The sunlight makes her hair look like fire, and in the standard white clothing she's been given, she looks angelic. "Joe?"

"Yes?"

"There's people." She whispers, and he looks around to see other patients, most accompanied by doctors or visitors. She looks nervous, and steps closer to him.

"Yes, there's people." He says.

"I don't want to hurt any of them." She whispers again, and the sadness and pain and childlike fear in her eyes makes his heart break.

"I know, Catherine." He says, holding her in his arms. "I know."

* * *

"She can leave." The doctors tell him. "But she's going to need someone to watch her 24/7. Someone that will reintroduce her into society."

"I will." He says without hesitation.

"It's a lot of work, Mr. Solomon."

"I know." He shrugs. "She can live with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

When they leave, she looks more terrified then he's ever seen her. Her movements are wary, and she's careful to not get near to anyone as they drive back to his house in the rain.

"Welcome home." He says as they pull up to his lake house. "Welcome home."

* * *

Her screams don't startle him anymore. When he hears them in the middle of the night, he calmly gets up, goes across the room, and scoops her into his arms until she wakes up from her nightmares.

"I'm sorry." She always sobs. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." He whispers, curling up next to her and waits for her to fall back into her tumultuous sleep. Eventually, it happens so often that he makes her sleep in his room with him.

She no longer has nightmares.

* * *

"Cake?" She offers him one morning while he's just waking up. "I made it for you."

"Why?"

"I wanted to make you breakfast in bed, to thank you." She whispers, sitting in front of him, so tiny and fragile that he thinks she might break. "For everything. You didn't have to do what you did."

"I would do it again in a heartbeat." He murmurs. "But why cake?"

"It's the only thing I know how to make?" She shrugs. "And I tested it first to make sure it wasn't deadly, don't worry."

"Thank you." He says, squeezing her hand.

"What do you have to thank me for?" She shakes her head.

"Everything."

* * *

She looks out the window a lot, but especially when it rains. After being locked away for so long, it's almost foreign to her. As usual, that afternoon, she's staring out the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She's wearing a baggy sweater, and short shorts, and Joe wonders how on earth she could be warm wearing that.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" He says, coming to stand besides her. She nods in agreement, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her, squeezing her to his chest.

"I'm so afraid I'm going to hurt someone, Joe." She says softly.

"I know, but I'm someone, aren't I? And you're not hurting me." She blinks, and looks up at him.

"I guess you're right." She replies slowly. "I've never knew I could care so much about someone as much as I care about you." She regrets it as soon as she says it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not?"

"Because…well, because of Rachel. You love her, don't you?" He shakes his head.

"I love _you_, Catherine." He murmurs, running a hand through her hair.

"How could you ever love me?" She wonders quietly, letting his hand cup her face and bring it closer to his while he other one runs down her waist. "I'm broken."

"No," He whispers. "You're finally whole."

And when he kisses her with every ounce of his soul, and the passion courses through her veins, she realizes that she has finally healed.


End file.
